


Amor Vincit Omnia

by scout (scout_eki)



Series: Dreamnoblade One Shots [8]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: I mean not really references, I took latin for three years, Latin, Love, M/M, Sappy, Short & Sweet, overuse of "beloved", references of war, they're both simps, they're in love, to make up for my last one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scout_eki/pseuds/scout
Summary: Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur.Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Dreamnoblade One Shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991563
Comments: 9
Kudos: 483





	Amor Vincit Omnia

**Author's Note:**

> idk I'm tired and started crying halfway through this
> 
> this isn't my usual writing style, and it was kind of draining to write, but I wanted to try it out
> 
> the title is latin and means "love conquers all things"

Techno longs for the golden haired man more than he hoped he would. He aches for the soft touches, the lingering glances, the pure love radiating from his beloved. He wishes he could wrap his arms around his lover, wishes he committed more time to remembering the soft whispers that caressed him the night before the two departed. 

Nevertheless, he knows this is for the best. He has a duty to maintain, hundreds of people counting on  _ him  _ to get them through this safely, to send them home to their own families. He knows Dream has a job to do too, his own people depending on him to bring them home. He knows it’s best for them to be separated. Neither of them are too willing to focus on the task at hand when their beloved is right next to them, eyes always unwillingly moving to watch the other.

After all,  _ even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time. _

Intellect is crucial in this war,  _ more important than the way emerald eyes glow brighter when a new idea comes to mind,  _ and Techno needs to be away from all distractions when he is planning a new battle strategy. However, Dream isn’t one to simply disappear from other’s heads. He is remembered through multiple people by his intelligence, his strength, his agility. 

Nobody commemorates him as Techno does,  _ and nobody ever will, judging by the gold bands intertwining ring fingers on two separate hands halfway across the barren land.  _

Nobody has seen the way his lover’s hair splays out in the morning, creating a halo in the warm sunlight of a new day. Nobody has felt the brush of soft fingertips against skin, those same hands now weilding a diamond axe, surrounded by allies and enemies alike. Techno is the one who got to experience it all, and  _ god,  _ how he longed for it.

Dream is a stained glass window, a complex collection of qualities that combine to make one beautiful creation. The light that shone through Dream, evident in the bright beams and warm words, was enough to blind onlookers. If Dream was a stained glass window, Techno was the one stood beneath, bathed in the kaleidoscope of colors produced from his lover. 

Dream doesn't hinder Techno’s intelligence, in fact in many ways they work better as a team, but the magenta haired man finds it hard to focus on the war consuming countries when an ethereal being is watching his every move, the hands running across parchment begging to be cradled. He finds it difficult to focus on approaching enemy lines when his lover is glowing in the sunlight, emitting a warmth that has caught the attention of not just Techno, but also numerous people in the room. It was dangerous to keep them in the room together, so they were forced apart.

Waking up every day to a cold cot in a room full of men just like him was not as comforting as it may seem, his lover’s warmth absent from his side feeling like a stab to the gut. He went through the ugly motions of war, he did what he was supposed to; and at the end of the day, he sat around the campfires and prayed he didn't hear his beloved’s name on the casualties’ list.

The news of the final strike came on a windy, brisk morning, light filtering through the dirty windows, sending shadows sprawling across the floor. Techno barely heard the announcement before he was up and out of bed, his gear being shoved into his pack in record time. His companions were no different, nobody speaking, only the sound of packs rustling filling the room of their temporary camp. 

The final battle was bloody, crimson painting the blades of grass. The pink haired man refused to look at his comrades, willing himself not to stare too long at corpses containinh dirty blond hair. He surveyed the grounds in front of him, the wind sending the grotesque smells of war to the remaining men. He stood up from his crouching position, preparing to return to the medical tent to check on survivors, when his blood ran cold.

“Love?”

He knew that voice. He could pick out that voice in a room full of people, the soft words always making their way straight to Techno’s ears, deaf to the others around him. He turned, his breath catching at the sight of his beloved. Bags beneath enthralling emerald eyes, new scars on freckled skin, the ever present fatigue of war; paired with a smile. Paired with a bright grin reflecting overwhelming relief.

His legs moved without prompting, his heart taking control of his body, sore arms wrapping around his beloved; one arm tightly around a slim waist, the other cradling the back of matted dirty hair. Sluggish arms wrapped around his own back, a face shoving itself into the crook of his neck. 

No words were spoken, they weren’t needed yet. They would be spoken later that night, when they'd both made their way to a shared cot, soft whispers echoing in the night. Right now, their bodies did the speaking for them. Hands clutching at shirts, kisses scattered across smooth skin, eyelashes brushing the unharmed skin of their necks. They were both consumed with love, utterly drunk off it; unable, and unwilling, to feel anything besides relief and warmth.

They would need to have a conversation with their separate groups of men, debriefing needed to occur before the soldiers could start healing. However, that was the least of the two’s worries, for they were home. 

After all,  _ even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time.  _

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it :)


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